


Spooky

by enigmaticblue



Category: Bones, The X-Files
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 12:54:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for fics_for_fun Challenge #7. Two characters from two shows and a breakdown on a deserted road, set circa 2005.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spooky

Mulder stared at the flat tire in dismay. Scully was going to kick his ass, no question about it. Scratching his bearded face, he considered his options. While he hated changing tires, there didn't seem to be any other choice.

Checking his watch, he cursed quietly to himself. He'd already been running late and this was just going to make him later.

As he rummaged for his cell phone he knew that Scully wouldn't be quite so angry if he called to let her know he'd be late getting home. She tended to get worried about him--both as a result of past experience and knowing that he was still wanted by the FBI on bullshit murder charges. Bullshit, or not, though, he was still a wanted man.

His cell was dead and he'd left the car charger at home. He cursed again, even more fluently this time. Scully was definitely going to kill him.

Resigned now, he popped the trunk and set about finding a jack that he soon discovered wasn't there.

"This is just great,” he said as he leaned on the rear bumper, steeling himself for the long walk home. They lived out in the middle of nowhere for a good reason, but right now he was having trouble remembering what that reason was.

Twin beams suddenly appeared on the horizon, catching him full in the face, momentarily blinding him. Reflexively, he put up his arm to shield his eyes. A moment later, he heard the distinctive sound of tires on gravel as the approaching vehicle slowed and came to a stop on the shoulder.

"Do you need any help?"

Surprise wouldn’t begin to explain his reaction when a dark-haired woman got out of the car. In his experience, a woman alone tended to shy away from stopping, especially on deserted roads in the middle of nowhere.

"I don't suppose you have a jack?" he asked hopefully.

She considered the question. "I don't know. I can check."

She went to her own trunk, returning a few moments later with the necessary tool. It looked a little flimsy, but he was driving a small coupe that he'd rented so it might just work.

"Thanks." He took the jack from her, and turned back to his vehicle. "I really appreciate you stopping. My--" He stopped mid-sentence, knowing that calling Scully his partner didn't quite work anymore. "My girlfriend would probably have killed me if I had to walk home." The word felt strange in his mouth--Scully was so much more than a girlfriend and the title seemed more than a little inadequate.

"Do you live near here?" the woman asked.

"Not really. It would have been a long walk."

That got a smile out of her. "I'm glad I came along, then."

"There aren't a lot of people who come along here."

"I was on a case."

Mulder stiffened, but he kept his voice carefully neutral. "A case?"

"I'm a forensic anthropologist. I work with the FBI."

He closed his eyes, unable to believe his luck. Of all the people who might have stopped, he had to get someone who worked with the Bureau. It looked like his luck hadn't changed at all. "That sounds interesting."

"It is. I'm Dr. Temperance Brennan."

The name sounded familiar, and Mulder rose to grab the tire iron from the trunk. "The author? _Bred in the Bone_, right?"

"You've read it?"

He hadn't because he’d been too busy tracking X-Files he could no longer risk investigating. "My girlfriend did." Realizing how that might sound, he added, "She couldn't put it down."

Brennan didn't appear offended. "I'm glad she enjoyed it."

He focused on the tire, wondering if she was going to notice that he hadn't given her his name. She hadn't said anything so far, and Mulder worked in silence to loosen the lugs. Brennan had left her headlights on, and they provided enough light to see by.

"I didn't catch your name," she said as he fought with the last lug nut.

Mulder winced. He never knew what to say. Did he risk giving his own name? If she hadn't worked with the FBI, he might have; it wasn't like he was on the Bureau's top ten list of wanted fugitives. In the end, he resorted to his favorite undercover name. "Rob Petrie."

"Like the dish?"

Trust a scientist to catch that. He'd thought it amusing when he'd first chosen the name; Scully had been less amused. "Exactly like it."

"What do you do for a living?"

Mulder didn't care for that question either. In truth, he alternated between trying to keep tabs on various X-Files and sulking because he couldn't get out and investigate them himself.

On the rare occasion, he met with old contacts face-to-face, which is what he'd been doing when the tire went flat. Scully always worried, however, and that made her cranky. He'd learned a long time ago that a cranky Scully wasn't fun to be around.

"I'm a freelance writer."

"Oh."

She went silent, and Mulder belatedly realized that he'd just become every published writer's worst nightmare--the amateur who likely had a manuscript to be read, or endless questions on how to break into the field. He grinned to himself. She was his worst nightmare, and he was hers. It seemed fitting.

"Did you hear that?"

Mulder went still. "Huh?"

"Did you hear that?" she repeated patiently.

After a moment, he heard rustling and crashing sounds in the woods off to the right. "Yeah."

"Stay here,” she said as she trotted off to her car. Her order was authoritative, and for a moment, he was reminded of Scully. Mulder secretly wished that she was with him.

Brennan returned a few moments later with one of the largest guns he'd ever seen, and his eyes went wide. "That's...some gun." A number of smartass remarks went through his head, but he bit them all off.

"I'm quite capable of handling it."

"I'm sure you are." He kept the comment quiet, and nearly under his breath, then stuck his head in the open driver's door to get his own weapon.

Her eyebrows went up. "Do you have a permit for that?"

He didn't, but there was no reason for her to know that. "You generally carry protection when you live in the middle of nowhere."

She sized him up. Another rustling, this time louder, had them both turning towards the sound. "How are you with that?"

"I can hit what I shoot at," he responded.

"Let's go."

Mulder felt himself tense as they walked into the trees, and he kept his weapon at the ready. He just hoped that Brennan's luck was better than his when it came to wandering through the woods. Otherwise, they were going to be in deep trouble.

They were about ten yards in when Mulder saw a shape hurtling at them out of the darkness. He brought his weapon up too late; the creature crashed into him, laying him out flat on his back, and started licking his face.

Brennan leaned over him and watched in amusement as the dog bathed his face with doggie kisses.

"I think we’re safe now,” she said with a smile.

He told himself her smile was due to the dog and not that fact that when Mulder was first ambushed his response had been a rather unmanly yell.

“Yeah. I think we’re safe.”

His comment nearly had been that one never knew if they had a dog or a werewolf on their hands, but he shut his mouth with a snap, mostly because the dog hadn't given up on licking him.

Brennan took pity on him a moment later, hooking an arm around the dog's neck and pulling him off. "He doesn't have a collar."

"He probably ran off from one of the houses around here." Mulder decided that his best bet would be to get rid of Brennan as quickly as possible. "I'll take him home with me, and we'll check around."

"That would be good since he wouldn't fit in my car anyway."

They walked in silence back to their vehicles. The dog’s wagging tail and doggie grin implied that it wouldn’t be running off again anytime soon. Once Mulder had it penned up in his car, he quickly finished changing the tire and gave Brennan back her jack.

"Thanks." He felt awkward all of a sudden, not knowing what to say to this stranger who had helped him. "For stopping."

"You're welcome. It's pretty dark to be walking out here all alone. You never know what’s out there."

“Um, yeah."

She smiled. "Be careful driving home, Mr. Petrie."

"Yeah, you too!" he called after her.

Mulder slid behind the wheel, watching as her car pulled off the shoulder, the taillights soon shrinking to mere pinpoints before they disappeared altogether. Starting his car, he decided that he would be giving Scully a heavily edited version of the evening's events. She would not be pleased to find out about the flat tire and FBI consultant, but she wouldn't be able to resist the dog.

He glanced over at the dog, who was sitting in the passenger seat staring at him. "What do you say, fella?" he asked. "How about we not tell Scully that we met the famous author, Dr. Temperance Brennan tonight?"

The dog continued to grin at him and then said, “Okay.”

Mulder was pretty sure he forgot where he lived.


End file.
